20 BBY: Just a few hours earlier
Tanya stood beside Elara near the supply depot barracks, the weight of the night pressing down harder than ever. They had just emerged from the wreckage of the destroyed hangar and were now pausing in the dim light to finalize their plan.
Elara broke the silence. "So, what's the play? We can't just march up to Krell and watch."
"You're right," Tanya replied evenly. "Leave that to me. I need you to observe the battle—Krell's new orders are too convenient to be accidental."
Elara's brow furrowed. "Umbarans wearing clone armor… It sounds ridiculous."
"Exactly." Tanya shook her head slowly. "Why would the Umbarans even bother? They're on the defensive. Orchestrating a large-scale deception takes time, planning, and—most importantly—opportunity. They have none of that. And yet, they're 'discovered' before their trick can even take shape? That's sloppy. Too sloppy. A real deception wouldn't unravel so easily."
Elara's expression hardened. "I've never seen an enemy force try to disguise themselves like this. Not in numbers, and not under these conditions." She hesitated before asking, "What do you think Krell's aim is?"
"That's why I'm sending you to observe," Tanya said flatly. "Watch everything. I don't know who's really behind that armor, but find out. And Elara…" She leaned in slightly, her dark green eyes catching the low light, "our comms may be compromised. Use codenames only. You'll be Specter; I'll be Wraith."
Elara nodded. "Copy that, Wraith."
"Now go. We don't have much time."
As Elara melted into the shadow of the night, Tanya turned toward the barracks. Inside her quarters, Tanya methodically gathered her gear: a compact recording device—small, discreet, and pre-set to low power mode; her datapad loaded with tactical updates; and finally, a weathered Jedi cloak and her old mask from a secure compartment. Though it had been ages since she last wore them, she kept these relics for moments like this—when slipping past suspicious eyes was essential.
Then she paused.
Sitting on the edge of her bunk, Tanya closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. The Force is a vast ocean, and though she hid her presence, now she needed to become virtually invisible—a whisper in the wind. She reached inward, drawing her presence deep, sinking beneath the current instead of standing against it.
Buried Presence.
A technique learned through practice and patience, it allowed a skilled Force user to erase the impression of significance. To an untrained soldier, she would be just another Republic officer. To a Jedi, she would feel like nothing—insignificant and unremarkable.
With a final, steadying breath, she opened her eyes.
Now she was ready.
Lifting her commlink, she spoke in a clipped tone, "Specter, keep me updated. I need eyes on the field. Over."
A moment of static, then Elara's voice came through. "Copy, Wraith. Moving into position now."
With a deliberate hiss, Tanya fastened the mask into place, pulled up her hood, and stepped out. Krell's charade was over—now was the moment we finally uncover his facade.
I stepped out of the barracks and into the cold, unwelcoming air of Umbara. The base alive with movement—clones readying for battle, squads shuffling between defensive lines, officers barking orders.
I need to get into position—somewhere secluded, somewhere that gave me a clear line of sight on the command tower's entrance and an opportunity to slip inside unnoticed. General Krell will show up sooner or later. He never strays far from his tower, easier to make sure the clones stay obedient when you're looming over them like some self-important overseer.
Sticking to the shadows, I moved through the base, following a natural blind spot between the barracks and the adjacent supply depot. Crates and scattered debris provided ample cover, the perfect obstacles to break line of sight. A few clones passed by, too preoccupied with their own preparations to notice me.
Reaching a stack of storage containers near the tower's side, I crouched low, keeping my eyes on the entrance. Two guards stood at attention, rifles held across their chests. Standard security. Predictable. But Krell's arrogance worked in my favor. He believed himself untouchable. No additional defenses, no heightened alert.
Fool.
Now came the hard part.
The command tower was a mix of Republic augmentation and Umbaran architecture—reinforced durasteel, limited entry points, and elevated observation decks. Standard fortifications for a forward command center. But the Republic didn't build this. The Umbarans did. That meant potential vulnerabilities, overlooked maintenance hatches, or internal structures still unaccounted for in the clones' security protocols.
When Krell called me in for his little lecture, I made sure to take in every detail of the layout. The ventilation; I just need to find its entrance.
I circled around the structure, keeping close to the walls, scanning with my visor. There. A faint heat signature—a hatch, tucked away near the tower's lower level. The Umbarans designed these towers with automated repair drones in mind, which meant these shafts were just large enough for something small to slip through.
For once, my height is actually an advantage.
Moving swiftly, I used my prosthetic hand to pry the hatch open with ease—far simpler than if I had relied on my real one. No security locks. Another oversight. The clones had yet to fully reinforce the command tower to Republic standards, leaving weaknesses like this exposed. Sloppy.
I pulled the hatch closed behind me, plunging myself into near-total darkness, but my mask at least allowed me to see. The air was thick, stale—stagnant with disuse. The shaft stretched upward, leading deeper into the structure. I reached out with the Force, feeling for vibrations, listening for movement. Nothing close by. Good.
Using the Force to steady myself, I scaled the narrow passage. The distant hum of machinery provided cover for my movement as I navigated the infrastructure of the tower. Tight spaces. Awkward angles. But nothing I couldn't handle.
Eventually, I reached a secondary access panel and peered through the slits.
There it was—Krell's command room.
I exhaled slowly, shifting into a stable position within the framework of the structure. Hidden. Silent. Waiting.
Now, I wait for updates from Elara. And once Krell walked through those doors…
I would have everything I needed.
20 BBY: The Present
I was told to meet Colonel Valken in the command tower as soon as possible. I could only imagine what they had done with Krell. His crimes were undeniable, but the Jedi were known for their mercy—for their restraint. Why had he done this?
The elevator ride up felt longer than it should have, the hum of the machinery filling the silence. I found myself gripping my blaster a little tighter, a feeling of unease settling in my stomach. The moment the doors slid open with a hiss, my breath caught in my throat.
Krell's body lay sprawled across the floor, his massive frame motionless. His severed head rested just inches away, eyes still frozen in the final moment of his shock. The metallic tang of burnt flesh lingered in the air. I could see the mark of a lightsaber along the cauterized wound.
I barely had a moment to process what I was seeing before Colonel Valken called me over.
She was standing calmly in the center of the room, hands folded behind her back. I caught the ghost of a smile crossing her lips, her gaze sharp and unreadable.
"Lieutenant Voss," she said, her voice unnervingly composed, "you've made it just in time."
Before I could even form a response, Commander Rex stepped forward, his voice tense.
"Colonel Valken," he said, his tone measured but unmistakably demanding, "please explain yourself. Just what is going on here?"
Valken turned to face him fully, her expression unreadable, though there was something deliberate about the way she carried herself.
"Commander Rex," she said smoothly. "Do not worry. Everything will make sense in time. But for now, I need you to trust me. The Republic needs us to finish this war."
The tension in the air was suffocating.
Rex's eyes flicked from Valken to Krell's corpse, then to the clones behind him. His men—loyal soldiers who had followed him through every battle—were now looking at him for answers.
Tanya had already given them certainty. Now, Rex had to decide whether or not to accept it.
His grip on his helmet tightened as he finally spoke.
"You just executed a Republic general, Colonel. That's not something you can just sweep under the rug."
Tanya's gaze didn't waver. "Neither is the massacre he orchestrated. Or would you prefer we let treason go unpunished?"
Rex's jaw clenched, but he didn't argue.
Because, deep down, he knew she was right.
And that terrified him.
Tanya took a measured step forward, her voice calm but firm.
"Commander," she said, locking eyes with Rex. "Will you trust me? We don't have much time. The other fronts are already engaging the enemy. If we hesitate now, we lose our window to strike—and with it, our chance to end this campaign."
Before Rex could respond, Elara interjected, eyes narrowing slightly. "Permission to speak freely, Colonel?"
Tanya inclined her head. "Granted."
Elara gestured subtly to the lightsaber still clipped to Tanya's belt. "How exactly did you manage to... best General Krell? With all due respect, you handled that saber like someone trained."
Rex, catching the remark, added cautiously, "Yeah, about that. Last I checked, colonels don't get issued lightsabers."
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Tanya's mouth, the kind you show when someone touches a landmine but doesn't realize it. She answered smoothly, "I took fencing in officer school. Very thorough instructors." Her tone was as dry as a desert.
Elara squinted, unconvinced. "With all due respect, fencing doesn't teach you that."
Tanya turned back to the holographic map, deliberately letting the moment hang. "It's amazing what you pick up when you stick around Jedi long enough. Shall we focus on winning the battle first? I promise the mystery of my extracurriculars won't help us take the capital."
Rex exchanged a glance with Elara but, realizing they weren't going to get more, let it go—at least for now.
Rex hesitated, his gaze flicking back to Krell's lifeless form. The weight of what had just happened was still settling in, but before he could find the right words, Fives stepped forward.
"She's right, Commander," Fives said without hesitation. "I trust her. She's proven herself—her actions speak for themselves. Taking down those walkers, keeping us alive, seeing through Krell's madness."
Another clone chimed in. "I agree with Fives. We've come too far to let our allies down now. We can't let Krell's actions ruin this mission; that's exactly what he would have wanted. This fight isn't over.
Rex exhaled slowly, still uncertain, but the conviction in his men's voices weighed on him. These were the soldiers he trusted with his life, and they made their choice.
Finally, he nodded.
"Colonel Valken," he said, his voice steady. "My men trust you. And I trust them. So I trust you now."
His stance straightened, the hesitation in his posture fading.
"What's our plan?"
20 BBY: The Southern Umbaran Front
Blaster fire lit up the streets of Umbara's capital like a storm of plasma, casting flickering shadows through the towering alien architecture. Smoke billowed from ruined buildings, the acrid scent of burning metal thick in the air. The Republic forces, battle-worn and exhausted, had clawed their way through layer after layer of Umbaran defenses to reach the city outskirts. But now, they were stuck.
Commander Cody stood at Obi-Wan Kenobi's side, scanning the battlefield with a grim expression. His men had fought tooth and nail to get here—every inch of ground paid for in blood. The Separatists threw everything at them, including whatever monstrosity that mechanical beast had been. The cost of taking it down had been steep. Too steep.
But there was no time to dwell on losses. This fight isn't over yet.
Obi-Wan exhaled, gripping his ignited lightsaber as he surveyed the city's imposing skyline. "Commander Cody, we can't wait on the 501st any longer. It's now or never—we must take the capital before the Separatists get another chance to break through our blockade. Our ground forces are tying up our fleet's resources as it is. If we don't end this soon, they will be vulnerable to a Separatist counterattack.
Cody gave a sharp nod. "Understood, General. I'll rally the men."
The order was given, and the assault began. The Republic vanguard surged into the city, moving under covering fire from AT-TEs. The first waves of clone troopers cleared out the last pockets of Umbaran resistance on the outskirts, securing a foothold in the city proper.
Then, the real battle began.
The Umbarans dug in, turning every street into a kill zone. Sniper fire rained down from the rooftops, forcing the clones to advance cautiously. The deeper they pushed, the more the narrow streets became a maze of barricades, booby traps, and ambushes. Every block was a brutal, close-quarters firefight, with clones forced to clear buildings room by room, their helmets clouded with dust and smoke.
An AT-TE lumbered forward, its heavy cannon pounding an Umbaran defensive position—only for an anti-tank mine to detonate beneath its legs. The walker went up in flames, debris scattering as the shockwave knocked nearby troopers off their feet.
"Troops, fall back!" Obi-Wan shouted, deflecting a flurry of blaster bolts as he covered the retreating soldiers.
Cody sprinted to his side, ducking behind cover as another explosion rocked the street. His voice was tight with urgency. "General, we can't keep pushing like this. The 501st was supposed to hit them from behind, but with them absent, the Umbarans have fortified every major street with no fear of a rear assault. They've dug in too deep—we're getting shredded out here!"
Obi-Wan grimaced, gripping his saber hilt tightly. He could see it clearly now—the battle was turning into a stalemate. The Republic was bleeding men trying to force their way in, but without the 501st to break the enemy's formation, the Umbarans could hold out indefinitely.
Obi-Wan stroked his chin thoughtfully. "We need a new plan," he murmured.
A thunderous explosion shook the battlefield, echoing across the cityscape. Obi-Wan Kenobi turned sharply toward the source of the blast, his instincts flaring with urgency. That had come from the opposite side of the city—far from his own forces.
"Cody, what was that?" he demanded, already bracing for bad news.
Commander Cody frowned, checking his tactical display. "I don't know, sir. We don't have any assets positioned over there."
Before Obi-Wan could press further, his commlink buzzed to life. He retrieved it, and the blue flickering hologram that appeared was not the one he expected. Instead of Krell's looming, overbearing form, it was the young officer who had been sent to observe. Colonel Valken.
Where was Krell?
"Commander Kenobi," Tanya's voice came through, calm and precise, "the 501st is here to assist. This city will fall within the day."
Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes slightly. "Colonel Valken? I appreciate the confidence, but where is General Krell?"
"You'll have to read my report after we win this battle, Commander," she replied coolly. "For now, I have assumed temporary command of the 501st. Please direct any directives through me. We're moving under Attack Plan 3A—harassing and eliminating Umbaran assets from the rear. For the Republic."
Before Obi-Wan could respond, the transmission cut off.
He let out a slow breath, his mind racing. He heard of Valken's exploits, but entrusting her with command of the legion gave him pause. Yet here they were.
He had many questions—far too many—but there was no time for them now. The battle demanded his focus, and whatever happened with Krell, although he had his doubts, it was clear the 501st was finally moving with purpose. He had to trust that he would get his answers in due time.
Tanya stood at the helm of the charge, flanked by Elara and Captain Rex, watching as the 501st descended upon the stunned Umbaran defenders.
Their timing had been perfect. The Umbarans had been completely caught off guard, their defenses oriented toward Kenobi's frontal assault. It was clear their intelligence had severely miscalculated—likely still assuming that the 501st was too fragmented and demoralized to be effective after Krell's disastrous leadership. And, considering their own tactics, seeing clones engaging each other must have sent their officers into chaos.
They underestimated our resolve. And now, they're paying the price.
Urban combat was a nightmare. Tanya knew that well enough. This was the worst possible battlefield.
A city offered endless places for enemy forces to disappear—every shattered building, every collapsed alleyway a potential death trap. Snipers could be perched anywhere. Insurgents could strike at any moment. Even with their morale restored, the 501st had to be careful.
And to make matters worse? No mechanized support.
Without AT-TEs or air support to punch through heavy defenses, this would be a slow, grinding, bloody fight. But the 501st had something far more valuable than armor—they had the element of shock.
The Umbarans were scrambling. Panicking. Their formations were breaking apart under the sudden, brutal onslaught.
Tanya adjusted her visor, analyzing their movements.
"We need to keep the momentum," she said to Rex. "If we give them time to regroup, they'll bury us in counterattacks. Our best chance is to keep moving, keep hitting, and don't let them breathe."
Rex nodded, already issuing orders. "You heard her! Push forward, stay in cover, and clear the streets section by section! We take this city block by block!"
Blaster fire erupted around them as the clones surged ahead, pressing the attack. The capital was falling into chaos.
It's time to end this battle.
20 BBY: Umbaran Capital - Republic Occupied District
Blaster fire crackled through the ruined streets, flashes of red and blue lighting up the fog-choked battlefield. The 501st had momentum, but the Umbarans weren't breaking as easily as Tanya had hoped. Even caught off guard, they were fighting like cornered animals.
Tanya moved swiftly between cover, staying just behind the advancing troopers. Her mind processing, analyzing—watching how the battle unfolded.
"Rex, what's our status?" she asked, ducking behind a crumbling pillar as a turret emplacement rained fire down the street.
Rex, crouched beside her, peeked over his cover and fired a well-placed shot before answering. "We're pushing, but it's a slog. The Umbarans are using the infrastructure against us—ambushes, pop-up barricades, snipers in the high-rises. They know the terrain. We don't."
Elara, positioned nearby with her datapad, frowned as she studied the tactical readouts. "At this rate, we're going to take unnecessary casualties. The Umbarans want us funneled into these kill zones."
Tanya sighed before pulling out her own visor. This is the problem with urban combat. The enemy dictated the flow. The Republic might have superior numbers, but numbers meant nothing if they couldn't be used effectively.
She took out her datapad, pulling up an aerial scan. The Republic will not continue to make Krell's mistakes.
"We need to stop thinking like an occupying force," she muttered, half to herself.
Elara glanced at her. "What?"
Tanya zoomed in on a few key locations across the city. "The Umbarans are fighting like insurgents now, not a conventional army. That means they're prioritizing mobility and ambush tactics. They expect us to play this like a siege, sweeping through one street at a time."
She pointed toward a cluster of communication relays deeper in the city. "That's their backbone. We sever those, and we cripple their coordination. No more relayed orders. No more cohesion."
Rex nodded as he scanned the data. His expression hardened. "That's a bold move, Colonel."
"It's a necessary move," Tanya corrected. "We don't have the luxury of time. If we let this turn into a prolonged siege, more of our men are going to die."
Elara nodded in agreement. "Cutting their communications would make their resistance far more disorganized."
Rex hesitated for only a moment before nodding. "Alright. We split into strike teams—hit those relays hard and fast. The rest of the 501st keeps up the pressure to make it look like we're sticking to a conventional push."
Tanya smirked. "Lets get it done, Captain."
Rex began to stand. "Just don't get yourself killed, Colonel."
She gave a sly, knowing smile. "The Umbarans won't live to see their dawn."
The 501st strike teams moved under the cover of the ongoing battle. Tanya and Rex led their own squads, breaking off toward their designated targets.
The first station was located within a half-collapsed administrative building, repurposed by the Umbarans as a communications hub. Tanya's team moved quickly, dodging sporadic patrols before reaching the entrance.
A clone set up breaching charges while Elara scanned for electronic defenses. "Their security is patchy—whatever they rigged together, they did it fast. We can override it."
Tanya gave a sharp nod. "Then let's not waste time."
The charges blew, and the squad surged inside. The Umbaran defenders weren't expecting such a direct assault. Within minutes, the station was secured. The clones wasted no time planting ion charges along the relay's central console.
Elara gave a questioning glance. "Wouldn't it be smarter to just disable it?"
Tanya primed the detonator. "Disabling it means they can fix it. Destroying it means they can't."
She pressed the trigger.
The explosion sent a ripple through the ground. Lights flickered, and in the distance, they could hear Umbarans approaching their position.
"One down."
With Umbaran communication in disarray, their coordination crumbled. Their forces, once disciplined and methodical, became desperate and scattered. Some fled. Others made last stands, clinging to whatever pockets of resistance remained.
Tanya's squad regrouped with Rex's, their armor singed, their blasters hot from constant fire.
"This is it," Rex said, scanning the retreating Umbarans. "They're breaking."
Tanya stood still, eyes fixed on the chaos of retreating Umbaran's unraveling before her. It was over.
Elara, standing beside her, shook her head. "After all this time… we finally did it."
The Umbaran Campaign was ending. Months of grueling warfare in the shadows, in the cold, in the never-ending night—coming to its final act.
But Tanya didn't smile.
She watched the battlefield in silence, hands behind her back. Victory didn't bring her comfort. Victory brought reality.
She turned to Rex, her voice weighed with the gravity of all they had endured. "The Republic may have claimed victory today, but the cost was immense." She extended a hand toward him, a gesture of both respect and finality.
Rex hesitated for only a moment before clasping it firmly. "I've been recalled to Coruscant, Captain. It was an honor to fight alongside you. The 501st is back in your hands. Give my regards to General Skywalker."
Rex studied her, his expression unreadable beneath his helmet. "Colonel Valken… I still don't fully understand your actions against General Krell. But I can't argue with the results." His voice was measured. "I don't know what we would have done without you. On behalf of the 501st—thank you."
Elara stepped forward next, extending her own hand. "Thank you, Captain. It was an honor to fight with you and your men."
Rex shook her hand, nodding. "And you as well, Lieutenant."
Tanya and Elara turned to leave, but before stepping away, Tanya stopped in her tracks. "As for your answers, Captain—you'll find them in my report once I submit it. What you seek will be there."
Rex nodded, though the flicker of uncertainty in his stance remained. "Thank you, Colonel."
As they took a few steps toward the landing zone, Rex straightened and raised a salute. Without hesitation, Tanya and Elara returned the gesture.
Above them, the Republic fleet loomed in low orbit, its warships descending now that the capital had been secured. The battle was over.
An LAAT gunship swept down from the sky, its repulsors kicking up dust as it settled on the ruined street. The blast doors slid open, and Tanya and Elara stepped aboard without a word.
Rex watched as the doors sealed behind them, the closing blast door a fitting symbol—the end of an era.
The gunship lifted off, its silhouette vanishing into the sky as more LAATs took its place, landing more occupying troops.
But for those who had fought on Umbara, nothing would ever be the same again.
The dust hadn't even settled from the departing LAAT before another swooped in, ferrying fresh Republic troops into the battered capital. The once-gleaming streets of Umbara were now little more than debris-choked trenches. Clones hurried past in tight formations, securing buildings and setting up checkpoints. AT-TEs lumbered through narrow avenues, their metal hulls scarred and soot-streaked from days of relentless battle.
Rex stood at the edge of a broken courtyard, watching as the occupation took root. It felt wrong. Hollow.
He wasn't alone for long.
"Commander," came a familiar voice. Rex turned to see Cody approaching with Obi-Wan Kenobi close behind, their expressions grim.
Without exchanging pleasantries, the three naturally fell into a small circle, sheltered from the rush of activity.
Cody let out a long breath. "It's over. Or at least, the fighting is."
"For now," Rex added, his eyes fixed on the LAATs unloading supplies and weary troops. "But you know as well as I do, occupation always brings its own battles."
Obi-Wan nodded, folding his arms. "The Umbarans won't accept this overnight. They're proud, secretive. They'll remember exactly who stormed their streets."
A heavy silence followed, weighted by too many similar campaigns.
Obi-Wan finally broke it. "Tanya Valken." He said the name as if it carried unfinished business. "I still can't make sense of it. She took command of the 501st like she'd been doing it her whole life—and coordinated the flanking assault flawlessly."
Cody crossed his arms, shaking his head. "Her lieutenant isn't much better. Voss works in her shadow. Silent. Calculated. Neither of them has mentioned a word about Krell's end outside of the battlefield report." He glanced sideways. "And I don't like mysteries—not on my side."
Rex shifted uncomfortably. "Yes, General Krell betrayed the Republic. What he did was unforgivable. But Valken... didn't hesitate for a second to take out a Jedi commander."
Obi-Wan's expression darkened. "The Council will investigate. Krell slipped under our radar—we won't let something like this happen again.
Rex gave a tired nod. "Thank you, General. Skywalker... he won't take this well."
Obi-Wan gave a dry, reluctant chuckle. "You can say that again." He paused. "Valken has always been… efficient."
Both commanders turned toward him, brows raised.
"You know her?" Rex asked.
Obi-Wan's gaze drifted to the grey skies above. "Years ago. Tanya Valken was under the tutelage of the Jedi Order—briefly." He stressed the word. "She was one of the Order's most promising students. A prodigy, you could say. It's rare to see a Jedi leave—unheard of, even—for one so young."
"That explains the saber," Cody muttered.
Obi-Wan nodded slowly. "It explains her skill, but not why she left—or how she ended up here, leading Republic forces." He exhaled. "Truthfully, I know very little beyond that. She disappeared from the Order's records just as quietly as she arrived."
Rex rubbed the back of his neck. "And now she's suddenly the most dangerous person in the room."
"Dangerous, yes," Obi-Wan admitted. "But loyal, too. If she weren't, Umbara would still be under Separatist control."
Rex shook his head slowly. "I just don't know how I feel about trusting someone who plays things that close to the chest."
Cody glanced at the occupied city around them. "That makes two of us."
Obi-Wan's voice softened. "We don't always get to pick who helps us win. Sometimes, we just accept the help and deal with the questions later."
The three of them stood in silence, watching as occupation forces fortified the crumbling city.
The battle was won.
But the war—and the questions—were far from over.
20 BBY: Anaxes - Task Force 77 HQ
Colonel Valken had been ordered back to Coruscant. Tarkin himself demanded she report directly regarding the events on Umbara. As for me, I was recalled to Anaxes, tasked with assuming command of the base. Our task force is mere days from deployment. I've often heard the saying, "no rest for the wicked," but I never truly understood it until now.
As Anaxes came into view, I caught sight of the new fleet assembled in high orbit. Sleek cruisers and escort frigates gleamed like jewels against the stars. The sight alone was sobering—proof of the faith and trust the Republic placed in Colonel Valken. Serving under a commander like her, I doubt I'll ever have a quiet moment again. And yet, I can't shake the lingering question of her past after the Umbaran campaign. Where did she learn to wield a lightsaber with such deadly precision—and why keep it hidden? Maybe she simply prefers blasters. But the more I wonder, the fewer answers I seem to have.
With my clearance codes submitted, my LAAT descended through the familiar atmosphere, landing gracefully on the command center's platform. As I stepped off, I was met by the unmistakable buzz of activity. The base was alive—officers barking orders, patrols moving in tight formations, technicians tending to newly delivered equipment. It was clear Tarkin had wasted no time in revitalizing this facility in our absence.
I made my way through the corridors, stopping at my office door. Entering the access code, the door opened with a soft hiss, as if it hadn't been disturbed in weeks. Inside, my office was exactly as I had left it: simple, and meticulously ordered. A few holos of past campaigns lined the shelf, alongside a carefully folded Republic banner, and my datapads were stacked with the precision expected of an officer raised on discipline.
Taking my seat, I activated the hololink. Fewer messages awaited me than I'd expected, but one stood out—a direct summons:
"Welcome back, Lieutenant Voss. Please report to Hangar 2G at your convenience."
I remember Coruscant was suffocating the day I returned. The skies were too clean, the air too perfect—manufactured like everything else on the overgrown ecumenopolis. After the mire and blood of Umbara, it was like stepping into another galaxy entirely.
Tarkin was already waiting when I landed. No escort, no fanfare, just the Admiral himself standing with his hands behind his back, like he had nothing better to do than meet a lowly Colonel. That should have tipped me off. When someone like Tarkin personally greets you, it's never just a courtesy.
"Colonel Valken," he said with that faint, reptilian smile of his. "Your presence is... timely."
I saluted, masking the weariness I could feel in every bone. "Sir. Reporting as ordered."
He offered no immediate response, only gestured for me to follow as we walked through the marble corridors of the military district. His silence was heavier than most men's threats. I busied myself observing the familiar sterile walls, replaying every detail of Umbara in my head. It wasn't guilt—not exactly—but I kept turning over every decision I made, wondering if I had crossed a line the Republic didn't want crossed.
Tarkin was the first to break the silence.
"I trust you have an after-action report prepared?"
"Not yet, sir. I intend to have it on your desk within the hour," I replied.
He nodded without looking at me. "See to it."
No praise. No criticism. Just that cold professionalism. I couldn't tell if he was sizing me up for a medal or a tribunal. That's the problem with men like Tarkin—they play every card close to the chest. You never know if you're being positioned for promotion... or disposal.
By the time I reached my assigned quarters, I had more questions than answers. I set to work on the report immediately. Every detail mattered. Every death. Every order Krell gave. Every breach of military protocol I witnessed. And, of course, the irrefutable evidence I captured. I included everything, including the fact that the entire campaign only succeeded because I defied a Jedi General in front of his own men.
Hours later, I was summoned again. Tarkin, seated behind a desk that probably cost more than my entire task force's budget, scanned the report in silence as I stood at attention.
"You have a thorough eye, Colonel," he said finally.
I could only nod.
He leaned back slightly. "Your initiative during the Umbara campaign was... unconventional. Effective, yes. But unconventional."
There it was. That subtle twist of words. Was I being commended or chastised?
"The Jedi Order has always... complicated things," he continued, voice like ice. "General Krell's fate will be listed as battlefield casualties, nothing more."
So that was it. The official record would bury Krell right alongside the clones he betrayed. No mention of treason, no mention of me. Just another name on the list.
"I understand, sir," I said, maintaining my composure even as something about it unsettled me.
Tarkin gave me one of those small, sharp smiles. "Good. Your task force is to be made operational immediately. Congratulations, Commodore Valken. The Chancellor extends his personal regards. The Republic is in great need of capable officers such as yourself. I shall delay you no further — your new orders await you on Anaxes."
I saluted. "Thank you, Admiral Tarkin."
As I turned to leave Tarkin's office, I couldn't help but wonder if I'd just passed some unspoken test... or marked myself for closer scrutiny. Either way, it hardly mattered now. Duty always outweighs paranoia. Or so I like to tell myself.
My transport burst from hyperspace, and Anaxes greeted me like an old, indifferent acquaintance. The blue and green hues of the planet swirled beneath the haze of orbital traffic. Above it all, suspended like a blade poised to strike, was my fleet. Just as the proposal outlined—Tarkin had made good on his end.
The flagship was the most prominent among them, its imposing lines unmistakable against the canvas of stars. The Resolute Retribution, an Acclamator-class—fitting, if a little on the nose. Heavy-duty, heavily armed, and ready to cut through any Separatist line unlucky enough to stand in its way. A shame it couldn't have arrived a few weeks earlier—we could've used it on Umbara.
My clearance codes cleared without issue, and soon we were descending into the fortified heart of the Anaxes Command District. The familiar blast doors hissed open, and there stood Elara, waiting like I hadn't just walked through a personal hell. Loyal to the core.
I stepped off the ramp and, without breaking stride, asked, "What's our status?"
She fell in step beside me. "Tarkin's been busy. Task Force 77 is fully operational and awaiting orders. We're ready, commander."
"Good," I said, masking the unease still lingering from my meeting with Tarkin. "Follow me. Let's see what he has gifted us."
The command center felt more cramped than I remembered. Perhaps the chaos of Umbara had distorted my sense of space. The clone officers on duty stiffened at our arrival, snapping to attention. I gave them a curt nod in return and made straight for the central console. My old datapad sat there, untouched — exactly where I left it. Just as it should be.
I keyed it on and was immediately met with a flashing notification marked: Priority One — Eyes Only.
It read, 'Confidential. Please enter access code.'
I input the string of characters, and the encryption unlocked smoothly. What I saw next piqued my interest.
Operation: Stonebreaker
Commodore Valken,
Republic Intelligence has confirmed the existence of a Separatist military initiative codenamed Scorpenic Annihilator, a next-generation droid prototype with unprecedented siege and anti-personnel capabilities. Current projections indicate a significant threat to Republic operations should the prototype reach mass production.
Intelligence has narrowed the suspected production site to the Quellor sector— an Outer Rim industrial region under tight Separatist control. Satellite imagery and intercepted transmissions suggest the existence of a concealed foundry responsible for the asset's development.
Confirm the precise location of the production facility.
Infiltrate, neutralize, and destroy all research and production capabilities.
Elimination of the Scorpenic Annihilator project is to be treated as a strategic priority.
Authorization for full operational discretion is granted. Collateral damage is permissible within acceptable Republic wartime protocols.
Signed,
Admiral Wilhuff Tarkin
I lowered the datapad, eyes lingering on the words 'full operational discretion'. That's just their polite way of saying, "Make it disappear, and make sure no one asks questions."
I pulled up the holographic representation of the droid and was surprised to reconize it.
"Hold on... we've seen this before on Umbara. Frankly, I can't blame anyone for wanting to blow it to pieces."
Elara's voice carried a measured urgency. "That thing was a monster."
I exhaled slowly, the bitter taste of that cursed planet still lingering. "I've got a feeling Umbara was just the opening act." I pushed my irritation down where it belonged. "Looks like we're going factory hunting."
Cutting off an enemy's production is always the surest move. No supplies, no war. Simple. The Republic is panicking over this new Separatist toy going into mass production. Let them. We'll dismantle the Confederacy piece by piece until they're nothing but scrap. And when I'm done, the Jedi, and that wretched Being X will all crumble—if it's the last thing I do.
On the deck of the Resolute Retribution, Sergeant Vrex, Corporal Talek, Private First Class Renn, and Private Verik stood at attention, their postures rigid, eyes locked on the door.
It slid open with a hiss.
They snapped to attention as I entered, flanked by Elara. I could almost hear the questions in their heads—but discipline kept their mouths shut. Good.
"Troopers," I said, calm and sharp, "it's good to be back. I hope you're ready. This won't be easy."
I crossed to the bridge, hands folded behind my back as I stared out into the black, cold emptiness of space. Elara took position beside me without a word. I let the silence hang just long enough.
Finally, one of them spoke.
"What are your orders, ma'am?"